Escape from Monotony (2p America story)
by Nightcrxwler
Summary: Allen Jones is fed up with his family, with how they treat him, and decides to go off on his own. Join him on his journey to find peace not only with those closest to him, but with himself as well. (Possible human AU, interpret it as you will)


He swayed slowly, the wind blowing through his auburn hair. He sat Indian style beneath a handful of the oak trees that littered the property, taking in the beauty of it all. He lived on a farm, miles from the nearest town. The only people nearby were those who lived on the neighboring pieces of property, and even then there was so much land in between that he and his family ( _if he could even call them that_ ) could live comfortably without so much as a sound from another living soul for weeks on end.

There were very few times that he got to relax like this, to take a moment to himself. A moment to breathe. Most of his days were spent fighting with James, being taunted by Francois, or hounded by Oliver to do something that he really didn't have any interested in, or want to do in the first place. He loved them, yes, but he was beginning to grow tired of the games that they played.

He needed a way out, an escape - Something to make him forget for a while. _Yes, that was the solution._ Perhaps he would feel more content with the situation, with his family, if he could just get out for a little while and think- Or maybe talk to someone, anyone. _Anyone who isn't one of them_ , he thought to himself.

He got up and started walking, his heavy boots colliding with the ground, each dull thud an indication that another footprint, the only evidence of his being there at that moment, would be left in his wake. He thought about trying to cover them up, so the others wouldn't find his tracks, but what was the use? If Oliver wanted him back bad enough he'd just send Flying Chocolate Bunny out after him.

And he _always_ managed to find him.

* * *

He'd been walking for over an hour, and though in this time he'd had no conscious clue what he was doing or where he was going, his feet sure did. They had seemed to know exactly what he needed - which just so happened to be a drink. Thirty minutes into his walk, he had unknowingly turned on a mental autopilot that took him to the nearest bar.

The place was called Ivy's - He had been many times, but he was always with James when he came as his brother knew the owner fairly well. That being said, the pair always got discounted drinks.

Allen knew that he shouldn't go in, that this would be the most obvious place for him to go, and probably the first place that they would look. If they even wanted to find him, that is. _They probably don't even know that I'm gone._

Against his better judgement, he pushed open the heavy double doors that led into the moderately-sized roadside bar, padded his way over to the thick wooden counter, and sat down on one of the barstools beside a rather rough-looking gent.

He had on a pair of faded jeans that were threadbare, ripped at the knees, a heavy leather jacket, and sideburns that were, oddly enough, quite neatly kept despite what the rest of him looked like. He was drinking, no, chugging whiskey straight out the bottle. And unless he had only been given half of the bottle to start with, it looked like he'd already downed quite a bit of it.

 _That guy must be insane,_ he smirked.

"What'll it be, sweets?" A heavily accented voice called out, breaking him from his thoughts. It was Ivy. She was standing behind the bar counter in front of him, a hand on her hip. "Whiskey," he replied dryly. "On ice. I'm not looking to get too fucked up today. Just need something to calm my nerves."

* * *

Ivy was, well, Ivy - A sweet, serious brunette woman of average height with the brightest blue eyes you'd ever see in your life. Originally from France, her and her family had relocated a few years back and she had somehow found herself running a bar. She'd told that story before but the alcohol in his system, that he had definitely had too much of, was making it particularly hard to recall at this point.

He reached into his pocket and grabbed his wallet, pulling out a few bills to pay for the drinks he'd had and setting them on the counter before stumbling to his feet and heading for the door. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder as his own reached for the doorknob.

He spun on his heel, eager to make whoever it was go away so that he could make sure that he would be on his way long before anyone would happen to show up - _If_ they showed up, that is. He didn't want to stick around and find out if they would.

His eyes landed on Ivy. "You forgot your wallet, Al." She grinned, holding it out to him. He grabbed it, smirking. "Thanks dollface." He turned, giving the woman a wink as he did, and opened one of the double doors, walking out into the open. _It's nice out here, even if it is a bit chilly._ He'd left his jacket back at the house along with his sunglasses, which were in his jacket pocket, so he was left in a white wife beater, a pair of blue jeans which were slightly torn at the knees, and his boots.

He started walking again, heading right, toward the nearest little town - which was a good few miles down the road, seeing as right now it looked as though he was in the middle of nowhere (fully intentional, on Ivy's part). There was no doubt he'd be walking for awhile, so he started to space out, putting his "mental autopilot", as his friend Luther had called it, back on and ignoring the world around him.


End file.
